For a' that, and a' that,
Our toils obscure, and a' that,
The rank is but the guinea-stamp—
The man's the gowd, for a' that.
What though on hamely Sire we dine,
Wear hoddin-grey, and a' that?
Gi'e fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A man's a man, for a' that;
For a' that, and a' that,
Their tinsel show, and a' that,
The honest man, though e'er sae puir,
Is king o' men, for a' that.
Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, and stares, and a' that;
Though hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a cuif, for a' that.
For a' that, and a' that,
His ribbon, star, and a' that,
The man of independent mind,
He looks and laughs at a' that.
A king can make a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a' that;
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, and a' that,
Their dignities, and a' that,
The pith o' sense, the pride o' worth,
Are higher ranks than a' that.
Then let us pray, that come it may,
As come it will, for a' that,
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
May bear the gree, and a' that,
For a' that, and a' that,
It's comin' yet, for a' that,
That man to man, the warld o'er,
Shall brothers be, for a' that.
For a’ that.
[This is the bard or fiddler's song in Burns's Jolly Beggars. It is sung to the same tune as the foregoing. Part of it appears in the 3d vol. of Johnson's Museum. The first two lines in the chorus belong to an old song.]
I am a bard of no regard
Wi' gentle folks, an' a' that:
But Homer-like, the glowran byke,
Frae town to town I draw that.
For a' that, and a' that,
An' twice as muckle's a' that;
I've lost but ane, I've twa behin',
I've wife enough, for a' that.
I never drank the Muses' stank,
Castalia's burn, and a' that;
But there it streams, and richly reams,
My Helicon I ca' that.
For a' that, &c.
Great love I bear to a' the fair,
Their humble slave, an' a' that;
But lordly Will, I hold it still
A mortal sin to thraw that.
For a' that, &c.
In raptures sweet, this hour we meet,
Wi' mutual love, and a' that:
But for how lang the flee may stang,
Let inclination law that.
For a' that, &c.
Their tricks and craft ha'e put me daft,
They've ta'en me in, and a' that;
But clear your decks, and here's The sex!
I like the jads for a' that.
For a' that, and a' that,
An' twice as muckle's a' that;
My dearest bluid, to do them guid,
They're welcome till't for a' that.
Tune your Fiddles.
[Written by the Rev. John Skinner, author of "Tullochgorum," &c., to suit an air composed by William Marshall, butler to the duke of Gordon, and called "The Marquis of Huntly's Reel." Marshall was a distinguished composer of Scottish airs and melodies, and also eminent as a player on the violin. A collection of his tunes, consisting of 176, was published in 1822, which was followed by a supplement containing 74 additional tunes. Every one is familiar with his "Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey," to which Burns's "Of a' the airts the wind can blaw" is sung. Marshall was a native of Fochabers, and died so recently as 1633, aged 85.]
Tune your fiddles, tune them sweetly,
Play the marquis' reel discreetly,
Here we are a band completely
